Where are you now, Mrs Joan Huyton ?



As a result of The Great Linked-In Blagging (the world now knows my email, my old password and the size of my socks) I have made the acquaintance of a Mrs Joan Huyton. Or rather, she has come into my inbox. Or rather she and I have become interchangeable.

You see, I get her junk email, and presumably, she gets mine. I rather think the kind offers to increase the size of a certain part of my anatomy do actually belong to me ( You do WHAT with the steel weights ?) as does the invitation to drive a World War II tank in Devonshire. But as for some of the other stuff…well… I’m not so sure.

A careful look through Mrs Joan Huyton’s junk email has allowed me to build up a picture of this doughty lady. She is a keen shopper- supermarket chains are falling over each other to offer her “ Free Shopping for a Year !” She drinks lots of coffee and thus qualifies for…you’ve guessed it…free coffee for a year if she solves this simple anagram and completes a three page survey on where, when and why she drinks coffee and how many times a food item ( Chelsea bun ? Sausage roll ?) is involved.

But there is more to this innocent shopper with a coffee habit. She spends. Bigtime. I’ve no idea what she spends her money on ( apart from coffee and buns) but the payday loan sharks are pestering her to take out a loan at a trivial 12,345 % interest.

And then there’s the plumbing course. It drops into my/her inbox every Monday morning. “Make a Fresh Start ! “ it says, “ Set up Your Own Plumbing Business ! Be a Plumber” I can’t see it somehow. I have this vision of Mrs Joan Huyton as a lady of a certain age, and size, who wears sensible shoes and the sort of clothes which cover more than they reveal. I cannot see her kneeling under someone’s sink, fiddling with their stopcock. She is also a bit shortsighted, as the “ 2 for 1” offer from the opticians testifies. Which might cause unpleasantnesses.

She used to do yoga, but has given it up ( the group leader is begging her to return) She is financially innocent- dubious agencies beg the pleasure of getting back dodgy insurances from the bank…

I could go on, but decency forbids.

I have tried to unsubscribe her junkmail- but of course, that turns the flow into a torrent.

Maybe it will just fade away. Maybe Mrs Joan Huyton will go out of my life forever.

On the other hand, there could be an email, a DM, a phone call… a knock at the door… and she will be there, in her sensible shoes, a spanner in one hand, and a cup of coffee in the other….


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